


saule pleureur (weeping willow)

by orphan_account



Series: appelle-moi par ton nom (call me by your name) [9]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Outing, Possessive Armie Hammer, Protective Armie Hammer, Slice of Life, Trees, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, park
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28600065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Armie and Timmy go to the park.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: appelle-moi par ton nom (call me by your name) [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087184
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	saule pleureur (weeping willow)

“Go to sleep, if you’re tired.” The leaves shielded Armie as he leaned back against the trunk, sitting on a root of the weeping willow that overlooked a pond on the small path they had walked.

Timothée yawned and lay down, resting his head in Armie’s lap. “Sleep?” he said, his voice so low it was barely above a whisper. “It seems like that’s all I’ve been doing lately, in-between our marathon makeout sessions. I can’t sleep, Armie, I don’t want to. I’m too tired to sleep.”

In spite of his words, Timothée closed his eyes. He didn’t sleep, but nearly fell into a light doze as he felt the rhythmic rise and fall of Armie’s chest. Armie passed his fingers through Timothée’s hair and massaged his scalp. Armie smiled and tucked a strand of Timothée’s hair behind his ear. 

After last night, he was sure that Timothée was not going to cut his hair short again. At least, not for a long time. There was still a good 10 weeks of winter left, and between the cold and the stipulation that he keep his hair at a certain length for his role, Armie had nothing to worry about.

Timothée flinched when Armie turned his head abruptly down toward the path. In the distance, he could hear the distinct shuffle and step of someone walking up the path toward them.

Thick lance-shaped leaves concealed their position from any view from the pond, but there was only a thin sheen of mist to obscure them from the path itself. They would be easily seen. As the unexpected intruder began to drunkenly sing a show tune from _Les Mis_ , Armie moved back. Timothée whimpered as Armie grabbed him and pushed him down. He sprawled his body alongside his and practically lay on top of him.

Before Timothée knew what he was doing, Armie pulled up the hood of Timothée’s jacket. He covered Timothée’s mouth in a grinding kiss and tore at his clothes. Armie groaned as he untied the drawstring of Timothée’s cargo pants and slipped his fingers into the fly hole of his boxers. Timothée gave a gasping squeal of surprise.

The singing stopped. Armie nipped Timothée’s earlobe. “Hush!” he murmured, just loud enough for anyone around to hear. Timothée giggled nervously. He lifted his head slightly, his hair spilling from the hood as he looked toward the path. Armie reached up and put his arm and elbow at the sides of Timothée’s head, blocking him from the interloper’s sight.

“Hey,” slurred a man’s voice, with a hint of amusement. “How’s it going?”

There was a moment of silence, broken only by Armie’s harsh breath. He stared at the intruder with a baleful glare. “It’s going well,” he said brightly. “Well enough for me to tend to my business, if you’ll leave me to it.”

The stranger laughed. “Got any room for one more?”

“Fuck you!” Armie hissed.

“Jesus!” the man said. “Watch your language, dude. What’s the little twink gonna think?”

Timothée felt Armie ball his hands into fists. He hurriedly reached up, grabbed Armie’s face between his hands, and pulled him down to kiss him. He moaned and writhed against him. Armie’s whole body stiffened. He broke away and pushed Timothée’s face toward the trunk.

“Eh, whatever man. I was only joking. Well, I’ll leave you to it. Have a good one.”

Armie listened to the lazy sound of footsteps until they receded. He lay over Timothée, looking out at the path. After a while, he sat back and tightly tied Timothée’s drawstring. “What a stupid asshole,” he muttered darkly.

Timothée stretched and brushed small flecks of dirt from his sleeves as he sat up. Any small sense of shame or embarrassment he had felt had turned into something else. He felt giddy and breathless, kind of turned on. “He seemed harmless enough, Armie. I’m glad you didn’t punch him.”

“I should have,” Armie scowled. “I don’t care if he’s just a kid. He knows this is a cruising ground. He should have shut up and turned back.”

“Cruising ground?” Timothée’s nose wrinkled.

“Yeah, you know. A place to meet up and have random, no frills sex. A ‘slam, bam, thanks man,’ kind of thing. Single guys, bored husbands, business execs, and little frat boys on winter break like that asshole. I bet he got stood up or something, and came out here to cry and play with himself. Uh, sorry to be so crass.”

Timothée looked at Armie’s lips as his mouth moved. There was something thrilling and deeply disturbing about the chance that they could have been caught _in flagrante delicto_ in such a place. Armie’s anger made him want to grab him by the shoulders, thrust his fingers into Armie’s hair and drag him down to the ground.

Armie frowned at him as if he could read his thoughts. He stood up briskly and helped Timothée stand up. “Are you okay? Did you get enough rest?”

“Mm-hm.” Timothée nodded and took Armie’s hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Good. Let’s go, before that little pervert comes back.”

Timothée reached up and touched Armie’s cheek. “You seemed to know an awful lot about this place. Have you ever...met up with anyone in a place like this before?” He blushed and looked down at his shoes.

“No,” Armie said bluntly. 

Timothée smiled and lifted Armie’s hand to kiss his knuckles. “Good.”

Armie put his hands on Timothée’s shoulders. For a minute, he thought he was going to kiss him, but instead he yanked Timothée’s hood up over his head, close to his face. “Keep your eyes down on the way back, and try not to draw attention to yourself. I don’t want him to think that you’ll lie down in the grass with any twink who passes by.”

“Nope! Just you,” Timothée smirked at him and wetly kissed his cheek, smacking his lips.

“Just me,” Armie said. “Unless you want to have to bail me out of jail.”

**Author's Note:**

> The specific park they visited is the Arnold Arboretum at Harvard.


End file.
